The Monster's Touch
by Charon de Rouen
Summary: After nearly drowning in the torture chamber, Raoul has a strange conversation with Erik about Christine and makes some horrifying discoveries. Strictly Leroux. (E/R)


A repost of an old short written circa 2012 or 2013 on an old writing journal of mine as a joke, back when E/R was a rarity!

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Raoul de Chagny—a man who had sailed around the world and adored large bodies of water—awoke with a gasp of horror at the sound of lapping water. Sick and ill from his recent trials, the tortured _vicomte_ lay in prone silence until his senses returned more fully. The odor of mildew assaulted his nose and a cold stone floor chilled his water-logged flesh. When he finally opened his eyes, two golden orbs met his.

Raoul nearly shot from his skin, an event marked with a strangled moan of horror that befitted neither his rank nor his sex. The orbs immediately retreated to a corner, seemingly abashed and mortified.

"Erik apologizes for his proximity," the monster murmured. "He merely felt concern for _monsieur le vicomte_'s recovery. Fright was the least of his intentions, but I daresay it happens too often for his tastes."

Raoul's pulse was regaining a normal cadence by now. When he tried to sit upright, though, his skull erupted with dizzying and nauseating sensations. It forced him to press his head firmly against the wet stone wall behind him and will the spinning to abate, now that he knew he wasn't alone.

"Where is Christine?" he demanded weakly once he found his voice.

"Oh, well enough," Erik promptly replied, almost cheerfully. The monster's long fingers twiddled anxiously. "She remains comfortably in my house, attended to by the daroga. She is perfectly safe. Rattled of course, but quite safe. Erik gives you his word."

"Let me see her."

An uncomfortable pause followed his petition. Erik regarded him uncertainly.

"_Monsieur le vicomte_... Erik wishes to ask... how much does _monsieur_ love Christine?" he asked at last.

Raoul felt his head spin with indignant anger. Hadn't he nearly drowned in his attempts to rescue her? He spoke with satisfying confidence, finally beginning to feel himself in spite of his discomfort.

"I would die for her, if need be. Gladly and without hesitation."

"Ah. I feared as much."

"Feared as much? You know as much!" Raoul protested angrily. Then the bottom of his stomach dropped out went cold. His throat went dry and confidence shriveled. "She chose not to marry you, did she?"

"Oh, no, no," Erik quickly assured him in a voice that left Raoul feeling strangely the opposite. Raoul watched him look away into the darkness, distracted. "Not as such."

"Then what? Have you come to gloat?" Angry tears burned his eyes. His tone immediately became scornful. "I wish you a happy marriage. The best man won. Now leave me to-"

Erik interrupted. "I am releasing Christine. But under one condition."

"Yes?" Raoul's heart simultaneously leapt and stopped.

"_Monsieur le vicomte_ must remain here in her place."

This was the last stipulation Raoul could have ever conceived.

"I don't understand."

"Neither does Erik, but it is rather funny how how love works, doesn't it? You see, Christine was perfectly willing to honor her end of the bargain, to remain here with Erik as his wife. She is very sweet. And she even proved herself with a kiss—oh, the gentlest, tenderest of kisses, right here... here, on Erik's forehead." He touched a long finger to indicate exactly where living lips must have touched dead flesh. The mounting joy he heard in his voice unexpectedly evaporated.

"Unfortunately... it was then Erik realized he had made a mistake, the gravest of errors for which he is deeply, deeply apologetic."

"A mistake."

"Yes. You see, that kiss, kind and blessed as it was, left Erik strangely unaffected. He could only think of... of you, _monsieur le vicomte_."

Raoul's ears rang in disbelief.

"You wear a very distinctive cologne, monsieur. My still coat smells of it, from when I pulled you from the water." Erik's cats' eyes disappeared and he turned to brush his cheek against his shoulder, breathed deeply in. "It filled Erik's nose—such as it is—and he realized... it was not Christine he wanted."

"You're insane."

"Am I?" Erik laughed mirthlessly. "As you can imagine, Erik knows so little of the ways of love. Erik is bound to make mistakes. I am only human, like you, strange as it seems. Both you and Christine share the same blue eyes... the same beautiful hair. It seems a shame to keep it so short... You aren't going to the guillotine, after all." The Opera Ghost covered his mouth with a thoughtful hand while he peered through the darkness at Raoul, whose white face grew red under such intense scrutiny.

Erik only began again when the aristocrat cleared his throat uncomfortably. "No. It is _monsieur le vicomte_ Erik loves, not Christine. So now Erik must amend his bargain. Christine shall be allowed to go free, to live free as she deserves after all we—yes, we, _monsieur_—have put the poor dear through. I think it only fitting given our previous, ah, misunderstanding. If I cannot have her, then neither shall you."

"And is this the only way?" Raoul asked in despair.

"It is. Unless _monsieur_ would rather die, in which case Erik would be sorely distressed to execute that request, for then he would have to inform Christine of her sweetheart's unexpected suicide. And then Erik would have no choice but to marry her and learn how to love her... to touch her..."

"Bastard!" Raoul had not expected such vehemence to explode from his mouth, yet he never came to regret it.

"No, please call me Erik. We were never formally introduced," the monster insisted serenely, "which I'm certain is why we got off on such bad footing. So which will you choose, _monsieur_: death or a lifetime with Erik?"

Immediately, Raoul found himself bargaining. How old was Erik, really? If he chose the latter, how long would he have to suffer this indignity? These damp, dank cellars could not be good for one's health. But in the event Erik's constitution was as superhuman as his voice, might death not be preferable in this instance? Suddenly, he understood exactly how Christine felt, how easy it was to lie for one's life to Erik's earnest, desperate face. But would he actually lie with the monster for Christine's freedom and sanity?

"Come sit by me, Erik."

Though he had choked out every vile word, the monster was deaf to the disgust. His horrible visage lit up with heart-breaking hope as he crept across the dark cell to sit on the filthy floor beside his prospective lover.

For a long moment, they sat in taut silence each regarding the other. Raoul struggled to contain his shiver of revulsion when Erik reached out to trace a cold finger down the length of the _vicomte_'s nose and onward until stopping on his chin. And when that death's head obstructed his vision, Raoul closed his eyes and thought of Christine until those cadaverous, dry lips stopped touching his.


End file.
